The Science of Magic
by mycsherly
Summary: Harry Potter reads Sherlock Holmes at the tender age of six. . . . . . the wizarding world will never be the same. Features a Slytherin! super smart! logical! genius! Harry and of course Severus Snape! ratings may change in future.
1. Chapter 1

**hey guys! **

**so, im back with another story, hopefully you'll like it! **

**also this has been written in under an hour, so if you find any mistakes - please forgive me for them!**

**also, as usual constructive criticism and prompts are welcome! feel free to PM me or leave a review**

**cheers!**

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><p>Chapter 1<p>

Six year old Harry Potter ran out of school- too fast for his cousin and said cousin's friends to catch him for yet another game of Harry hunting. Running until he reached the main road, he considered his options- he could either go home and be subjected to aunt petunia's sneers and disdainful looks, or he could go to the library and read a story book that would whisk him away from his dreadfully monotonous life.

He snorted. Like he even had to think about it.

Walking to the library at a more sedate pace, he gave the librarian a friendly smile as he wandered over to the kids section. Looking at the books around him, he allowed himself to relax. This was one place Dudley and his goons would never enter – they hated books. Looking for a decent book to read, his eyes immediately spotted a book that most certainly did _not_ belong in the kids section of the library. It was thick, and lacked the colourful decorations that were usually found on children's books. Curious now, he picked the book and saw the title written in gold calligraphy on the dark background-

Sherlock Holmes

The Complete Set

By

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Opening the book, Harry read the first few pages and was addicted.

Within a week, he had finished the thousand page book, reading furtively in his cupboard after sneaking an old torch in.

Within a month, Harry James Potter began practicing his newly developed deductive reasoning skills on the people and objects around him.

Within a year he had mastered it.

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><p>Harry sat in his history class at school staring at his empty notebook blankly. The teacher was teaching a topic Harry had already covered in his ahem, extra-curricular studies. At his current age of ten, Harry had already covered a myriad of topics to aid his deductions. He had soon realised after beginning to deduce the world around him that to become successful in deductions he would have to gather and learn facts to arrive at correct theories.<p>

And so he had thrown himself into studying every book he could get his hands on with an intensity that had shocked all those who had cared to observe him. To help himself remember everything, Harry had not only nurtured his eidetic memory but had also built a huge library in his mind where he stored all his facts in different books.

By far, his favourite subjects were science and maths. He enjoyed physics and chemistry in particular. There was something about how every statement in a science textbook could be proved that appealed to Harry's logical side. His fascination with physics arose from his fascination with building machines- indeed Harry's aim in life was to become a scientist, an inventor who would create new machines to usher the world into a new age. His passion for building new machines, was perhaps only rivalled with his passion for playing with chemicals.

Chemistry was, an acquired taste, so to speak. Harry had originally found the subject beyond dry. But then, when he read Sherlock Holmes for what seemed like the billionth time, he realised that if Sherlock Holmes could like chemistry, Harry Potter could certainly like chemistry too.

What had started off as a childish motivation, soon turned into an obsession. Harry could often be found spending his time in the physics and chemistry labs at school. After pestering him for some time, the labs assistants had soon gotten used to his presence and often let him experiment on his own.

But while he did enjoy science and mathematics, Harry had often found history and political science to be stimulating too. Reading between the lines of every great revolution that had taken place in history brought him great satisfaction. Oh yes, politics fascinated him to a large degree.

Which is why, as unusual as it seemed, Harry realised that he much preferred Mycroft to Sherlock Holmes. The man was more intelligent, better connected and infinitely more powerful and influential than his little brother. As far as Harry's reasoning went, why would he compromise and settle for Sherlock when he could have Mycroft?

Of course the man's lazy attitude left much to be desired, but he was confident that he could overcome that particular falling with ease.

Harry snorted. With the Dursley's around, there was no chance of him lazing around.

Anyway, class was over now. He could finally leave the torture that was school. He honestly didn't get the point of school- there was nothing they taught that he couldn't learn himself. And unfortunately for him, he couldn't even ask the school authorities to shift him to a senior class without angering his uncle. Sighing in misery, he picked up his bag and walked out of class

As he left, he noticed the other children give him a wide berth and smirked. Tall for his age, Harry with his intellectual prowess and sharp wit had quite the intimidating aura. None of the children his age liked to associate with him. Frankly Harry was glad they didn't bother- he didn't think he could have handled stupid children running around him and talking rubbish all day. He might just snap.

And then there were his weird abilities. Not that Harry disliked them, it was just they made life a tad bit more difficult with the Dursleys.

He was so lost in reflections that he almost didn't see Dudley and his gang cornering him. Almost.

"Hello there Dudders. How goes your day?" Harry asked, eyebrow arched as he spun to face his cousin and his henchmen.

"Shut up Potter!" Dudley growled.

"Oh I'm sorry, was it something I said?" Harry smirked. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Piers Polkiss make a sudden grab for him.

Dodging –nearly dancing – out of Piers' grasp, Harry turned to look at the boy. A quick scan gave him the perfect ammo.

"My, my, Piers, how rude! Tell me, how are your parents?" Harry sneered. Seeing the boy pale at the mention of his soon-to-be-divorced parents, he almost felt bad. But hey, try to hurt me and I'll fricking kill you.

"What's he talking about buddy?" Dudley asked an interested gleam in his eyes.

Harry snorted; it seemed his dearest cousin had taken after his mother - gossip mongers the whole lot of them.

"I'll leave you to it then" Harry muttered as the boys' attention shifted to their friend. Sliding away unnoticed, Harry relished the high he got from his correct deduction.

Strutting to number 4, he entered the house after he paused to pick up the letters in the mailbox. Rifling through them, he nearly froze as he saw the one addressed to him.

_Mr. H. Potter _

_The Smallest Bedroom _

_ 4Privet Drive_

_ Little Whinging _

_ Surrey_

How the hell did these people know about the bedroom he had blackmailed the Dursleys into giving him? Leaving the rest of his letters on the table he snuck up to his room where he locked the door behind him.

Dropping his bag down, he sat down on his bed and studied the envelope in his hands. It was thick, made of high quality parchment and smelt distinctly of an owl. Frowning at his last observation, he stared at the address. It was written in green ink and the handwriting had no distinctive character. Either this was written by a spineless worm or it was printed.

Turning the envelope over, he saw the seal – an eagle, a badger, a lion and a snake. It must be the coat of arms of Hogwarts, Harry observed squinting to make out the word stamped on the seal.

Hogwarts, Harry mulled the word over in his head looking for any clue about it. When none came he growled in frustration. He didn't like not knowing things- they left him at a disadvantage. And this dratted letter had baffled him more times than he could count in the past five minutes alone.

Carefully opening the envelope, taking care to maintain the seal he pulled the letter out and scanned through it in seconds.

_Dear Mr. Potter, _

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. _

_Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31. _

_Yours sincerely, _

_Minerva McGonagall, _

_ Deputy Headmistress_

What? Magic? Was this a joke?

Reading through the letter carefully again and going through the list enclosed with the letter, Harry slowly connected the dots. His abilities, the smell of owl feathers on the envelope, his aunt and uncle's panic whenever something unusual happened, their adamant belief that magic doesn't exist.

Harry felt something in him shift, as he realised that this was the moment that would define the rest of his life. He could either believe the letter and reply to it, in which case he would be accepting that the Dursleys had lied to him his entire life. If they had, Harry swore he would make them pay. Or he could dismiss the entire thing as an elaborate hoax and get on with his life.

Harry wasn't particularly fond of the latter option, but he refused to be taken for a fool by falling for the letter- should it be a prank. It would be just like the Dursleys to make him get his hopes up and then crush them just to hurt him. And god knew that Vernon certainly enjoyed hurting him, Harry thought darkly, suppressing a shiver.

Fortunately there was a simple test.

Should there truly be a magical school 'awaiting his owl' then there would theoretically be an owl waiting to take his reply.

Bounding over to the window in his room, he held out the letter and waited for a few breathless seconds.

Moments later, an owl came swooping down.

Taking a quick deep breath, Harry walked over to the desk in his room and taking out a clean paper, he set about writing his reply. Ten minutes later he was done.

_Respected madam,_

_I am Harry Potter of number 4 privet drive. I recently received your letter and I must say that I am rather puzzled. There are a few points I'm not quite clear on and would prefer to take a call on my attendance only after having these doubts resolved._

_To this effect, I would appreciate it if you could send a member of your faculty to deal with my concerns and tell me about how to go about my admission process. What is the fee I shall be asked to pay? What is the term structure? What are the topics you shall be covering in our syllabus?_

_As you see I'm bursting with questions and need some guidance. I am a novice at these matters and I'm sure one of your no doubt impressive faculty could certainly deal with my minor doubts._

_My Regards._

_Harry James Potter._

Handing over his letter to the owl, he asked it to take it to the deputy headmistress. Watching it fly away he took a deep breath.

There was nothing else he could do now.

His only option was to wait.

And wait he would.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Severus snape was not considered to be a happy man. He scowled and sneered and growled and prowled through the halls of Hogwarts, generally being a menace to the residents of the ancient castle. No one knew why Dumbledore had hired a man so embittered by his own life, to mould that of the future generations.

Despite all opposition however, no one could deny the fact that Severus snape was also an honourable man- and a man who stuck to his word.

However cumbersome it may be.

Currently as he strode through the empty halls of Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry, he rued the day he had given Albus Dumbledore his word to keep the Potter brat safe. In doing so, he had not only condemned himself to a lifetime of looking after the accursed brat but had also condemned himself to a lifetime of being at a certain headmasters' beck and call. Something the old man took every opportunity to exploit. Every. Opportunity.

Words had always served the embittered potions master well, but the fury he felt at Albus Dumbledore currently, was something he was incapable of describing. He had been brewing peacefully at spinners' end when that blasted phoenix flashed into his home, startling the usually unflappable potions master and destroying his potion. Oh how he loathed that flaming chicken.

The resulting explosion destroyed his workbench and several of his most prized ingredients. Not to mention the revolting goo he was covered in. And then, in his fuming, goo-covered state, Fawkes had the balls to give him a letter from the headmaster asking him to come see him urgently for a situation involving Harry bloody Potter.

To say that the potions master wanted to destroy every fibre in Albus Dumbledore's being would be an understatement. A gross understatement.

Reaching the wretched gargoyle he muttered the offensive password (that he swore Dumbledore installed simply to annoy him), "lemon drops", and the gargoyle jumped apart.

Stepping onto the staircase he swore to himself that if Albus-flipping-Dumbledore had called him to his office simply to marvel over the excellent penmanship of his favourite soon-to-be-student, he would end his existence right then and there. Painfully and excruciatingly.

Opening the door without knocking he strode into the headmasters' office with a flourish and sneered, "good morning headmaster. How may I be of assistance?"

"ah Severus!" the headmaster smiled. Severus however, looked beyond the headmaster's smiling visage and saw the dimmer than usual twinkle and deduced that something was wrong with the Potter child.

Of course the fretting Minerva McGonagall at his side was a dead give away.

"thank you for coming my dear boy. Unfortunately there seems to be something the matter with Mr. Potter's reply to our acceptance letter." Dumbledore said heavily.

So the old man was skipping pleasantries and his customary offer of those thrice cursed lemon drops. Severus mentally raised an eyebrow- Potter's letter must have had something big. And there was nothing Severus could think of that brat doing except-

"has he refused to come?" Snape asked, hardly daring to hope. Maybe he would never have to meet the Potter boy, perhaps he had consented to go to durmstrang or – he mentally snorted- beauxbatons.

"no. He has agreed, his letter however requires a professional opinion." Dumbledore said destroying Snape's hopes. He tried not to let his disappointment show, but failed spectacularly considering the fierce scowl old McGonagall gave him. After all, if a Gryffindor could see through his mask, he had failed monumentally.

"of course." Severus muttered and held out his hand for the letter. Giving him a brief smile, the headmaster passed the letter to him.

The first thing that struck Severus was the penmanship (loathe as he was to admit). It was a scrawl true, but a neat, long and well written scrawl. The second thing that hit him was the muggle stationery. And then he registered the words he was reading.

_Respected madam,_

_I am Harry Potter of number 4 privet drive. I recently received your letter and I must say that I am rather puzzled. There are a few points I'm not quite clear on and would prefer to take a call on my attendance only after having these doubts resolved._

_To this effect, I would appreciate it if you could send a member of your faculty to deal with my concerns and tell me about how to go about my admission process. What is the fee I shall be asked to pay? What is the term structure? What are the topics you shall be covering in our syllabus?_

_As you see I'm bursting with questions and need some guidance. I am a novice at these matters and I'm sure one of your no doubt impressive faculty could certainly deal with my minor doubts._

_My Regards._

_Harry James Potter._

What in the Bloody Hell?

Snape stared at the paper in his hand. An eleven year old had written this? With the impressive vocabulary and the (thankfully) correct grammar, the boy had written a letter of the standards that even his seventh year Slytherins wouldn't have been able to write.

Re-reading the last night, Severus noted the slight, barely-there flattery and felt his gut sink. The tone, style and subtle manipulation throughout the letter all pointed to one thing.

Potter was coming to Slytherin.

Oh he knew that most would call him presumptuous, declaring his assessment of the boy's character after reading just one letter from him, but Severus saw the signs. He saw the was the boy had given out an air of authority at the beginning of the letter, smoothly shifting it into the unbridled curiosity of a child, before turning it into the honeyed notes of a seasoned politician, aiming to both please and order. All in the span of a letter that was less than 200 words long.

For a split second, he thought he was looking for ghosts where there were none. Maybe his tenure with the dark lord had left him paranoid. But then as he looked into Albus' eyes he realised that Albus had seen the signs too. Which meant there was no way he was imagining it.

Which meant that for the next seven years, he would have the dubious honour of being in-loco-parentis to James Potter's son.

He considered suicide at the very thought.

"I see you have reached the same conclusion as myself. So I would like you to go to the boys house with Minerva and buy him his supplies as well as answer his queries to guide him to where he needs to be." Albus said, a note of finality in his voice.

Not even thinking about arguing Severus nodded and walked out of the room with Minerva at his heels.

Albus' order had been very well disguised so as to not raise Minerva McGonagall's suspicions. Severus however, had understood the message loud and clear.

Guide Potter to Gryffindor and away from Slytherin.

Setting his jaw, Severus refused to be daunted at the idea. After all, how hard could it possibly be to steer Gryffindor's apparently wayward hero away from Slytherin?

Less than twenty fours from now, Severus would scoff at his past self's blind confidence and wonder how he always managed to get himself into such situations.

But he didn't know that right now did he?


End file.
